Fall Apart
by lespetitesmorts
Summary: A Rizzles divorce fic, spawned from two of my Rizzles Ficlets. There will be brief moments of fluff, but really, it's more about the hurt.
1. Promises

Of all the outcomes Detective Jane Rizzoli had theorized, this was not one she'd seen coming. Yeah, okay, so maybe she'd been a tiny bit reckless on their latest bust. But in all honesty, who wouldn't have thrown themselves in front of a bullet for a kid? That's right: no one. It was the smart decision; the only decision.

Apparently that didn't mean enough to some people. But that's just the thing. If anyone could've understood why she did what she did, she would have sworn up and down that it would be Maura. At least, up until four days ago, when they'd still been married and happy, but most importantly, _together_.

Guess you never really know someone, no matter how much you believe you do.

She had to give the doctor props though, her lawyers knew how to draw up divorce papers in no time. Or maybe they'd been locked away since the wedding, slowly gathering dust until duty called. Maybe Maura'd always known that this would be how it would end: with her walking away. Because everyone and their mother knew that there was no way in hell Jane would ever walk away from _her._ No, Doctor Isles was doing the leaving.

Even though she'd promised to be there, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. Jane thought she knew what she was getting into, saying vows with a cop. Jane has to hand it to her, though, it takes real gall to serve divorce papers with the divorcee still in a hospital bed. Maura was lucky Jane was left-handed, or she'd have to wait until her right shoulder healed enough to sign her name.

Maybe Maura wasn't the only one who saw this coming. It would explain Jane's non-reaction throughout the whole ordeal. Like she knew this was a fleeting dream and any moment she'd wake up only to fond memories and no real future. Maybe they were doomed from the start. But they'd been in love, the purest form of love, and Jane had hoped it would be enough. It was. For her, not for Maura.

Or maybe it was simply the cocktail of painkillers flowing through her veins, removing her from the emotional implosion temporarily. Jane was starting to realize that there were a whole lot of maybes. She glanced at the clock, stunned at the fact that she only had five minutes left. Maura had been in an hour ago with the papers, calmly explaining her reasons and thoughts. After half an hour of words pouring out of the doctor's mouth, delivered with a clinical coldness Jane hadn't heard in years, she'd stopped Maura mid-sentence with a soft raise of her hand.

"Can you go get a coffee or something and come back in half an hour? I just need some time," she'd asked and Maura had nodded tightly, and was out the door mere seconds later. Already they were too polite, too formal; overcompensating.

The door opened and Maura re-entered the ward. Jane didn't want to prolong any of it, but she still had something she needed to know.

"I just need you to answer two questions, Maur," and she paused until the doctor nodded her acquiescence. The heart rate monitor echoed Jane's deep breath. "First, Maura Dorothea Isles, is this what you want?" Automatically a scowl graced Maura's face and her lips parted to spew indignity. Jane shook her head. "I need to know that this is all you. If you're doing this for your family or for some Goddamn noble reason or something, I just want to know. Frankly, I think I deserve to know."

"I told you, Jane, I can't do it anymore. I can't be with you anymore."

Jane nodded silently, thoughtfully; now for the real question. "Was any of this real for you? Did you ever actually love me?"

Maura's mouth dropped open in shock, a crack in her demeanour showing the hurt in her eyes. She took an involuntary step forward. "Jane – I – Of course I loved you."

And with that, Jane picked up the pen and made her mark, eyes now refusing to look at her soon to be ex-wife. "I'm sorry it wasn't enough," and she thrust the papers back into Maura's hands, gesturing for her to leave as she did so.

During her exit is the only time Jane saw Maura hesitate.

_Sometimes_, Jane thought, _Sometimes people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them_. She tapped her pain pump and drifted away on a sea of morphine.


	2. Missing

When she wakes up, she's disoriented; an unwelcome side-effect to taking pain meds. She looks around her room and frowns. There's definitely something missing, but she can't quite place her finger on it. She inspects herself first. Shoulder's screaming, but when you have a bullet shatter through you, that's to be expected. Her gun's probably been taken for analysis. Her badge is on the table beside her. So what's missing?

She can hear her Ma down the hall giving hell to a nurse who most likely doesn't deserve the tongue-lashing.

"How dare you let my baby receive her yesterday? She's in a hospital bed, for crying out loud, you think she needs divorce papers to top all that off?"

Oh, right. That. And that's when Jane realizes what's missing: Maura. She allows herself one snuffle, but won't let her hand press the pump again. She shouldn't go from one addiction to another, especially when the first turned out to be less healthy than she thought. Okay, she can give herself leave for another snuffle if she's going to badass her way through waves of pain.

She wants to roll onto her side, but with all the tubes hooked up to her and the intricate sling surrounding her arm, she pushes down on the desire. She tries to look everywhere but at the plastic seat beside her bed or the door she'd let the love of her life walk out through yesterday.

Shit, she's actually going to have to deal with this. And apparently her mind is dead set on 'right now'. Through eyes half-closed in anticipation of the hurt, she looks down at her left hand. Yeah, the ring is still there alright; mocking her, taunting her. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have been so naïve as to actually believe that that perfect goddess was meant for her? How could she have believed that she had anything to offer the woman who had it all or could get it all with just the snap of her fingers.

It wasn't anything new. She'd always known the doctor was slumming with her, even when they'd just been friends. It's amazing what your heart can talk you into when you want it so badly to be the truth. She was a broken, blue-collar, temperamental cop. She didn't belong in Maura's world. God, even her name could make her heart twist and ache.

She thought about taking the ring off, showing the world that this wouldn't break and define her as other events had. She'd lived without Maura before; she could do it again. _But that was a half-life and you know it_, the thought was an immediate response to a life without her doctor.

The gripping sensation in her chest intensified.

No, she'd leave the ring on. Marriage goes two ways, after all. She meant it when she said 'til death do us part' and Jane Rizzoli does not go back on her word.

Maura never went back on her word either. Until this, anyway. Idly, Jane wondered if her ex-wife was experiencing a good case of hives for the lies she'd told yesterday. She hoped she did, even hoped she'd experienced a vasovagal experience, despite the guilt she felt at the thoughts.

Part of her wished she'd never met the doctor, to spare herself the crushing pain of loss that was bubbling just under the surface of the waning morphine. But part of her wouldn't trade a single second of Maura Isles being in her life, not for all the pain in the world.

Eventually she'd have to go back. Back to the precinct, back to their house, back to her life which had Maura in every single aspect. She should embrace the respite while she can, before she has to face that woman every day and know that even though she had once been hers, she never would be again. After all, she knew Doctor Isles. She knew Maura wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

She glances down at her ring again and the memory of the day it was placed on her finger erupts behind her eyelids, crystalline in clarity. She doesn't notice the tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes.

Her phone beeps from the table beside her. The ID tells her it's someone she'd rather not hear anything from. It's probably just something about when the doctor will be away from the house, so she can pick up her things, her remnants of a former life, without disturbing the peace of the one left whole. She shudders at the thought. She stares at her phone in contemplation for several minutes. She shrugs. Why not drive the knife in a little deeper? Maybe if she shatters a little more, she won't ever have to try and put herself back together. Maybe she can just stay broken and no one will mind.

She opens the text message. _Thank you for signing the papers, Detective Rizzoli_.

Yeah, Maura may have believed she loved her, but any trace of that is gone. She smirks bitterly as she types out her reply. The smile fades as she appraises her pain pump. She checks the room, more out of habit than actual necessity as she knows there's no one there. She gives it a tap, knowing it won't hurt anyone but her in the long run.

_You're welcome, Doctor Isles, but it's Detective Rizzoli-Isles._


	3. Numb

They released her from the hospital after another couple of days of observation. She pulled herself out of the wheelchair as soon as she cleared the front door, opting to wait for her Ma to bring the car in front while standing. She didn't even know where she was supposed to go.

At some point, she'd have to return to their- to Maura's house, but it's not like she had an apartment anymore. And there was no way in hell that she was going to stay at her Ma's place in Maura's backyard.

Her Ma pulled up and Jane hopped in silently. She spent the drive actively ignoring the copious looks of concern her mother shot her, but she was grateful Angela didn't seem to feel the need to speak. There was only so much a woman can deal with at one time.

"I didn't think you'd want to stay with me, so Frankie offered up an air mattress on his living room floor." Her Ma looked over at her once again. "I thought you'd prefer that."

Jane nodded her agreement before adding a soft, "Thanks, Ma," because the woman was driving and shouldn't have been able to see the movement.

They didn't say anything about where else Jane won't be going. They didn't let slip the slightest mention of a certain tortoise-loving doctor. They didn't discuss the current status of Jane's marriage.

Jane was thankful they didn't say anything. She got out of the car at Frankie's and pulled a bag of clothes from the trunk before suffering through a too-tight hug from her mother. She waited til her mother drove away before mounting the stairs.

Frankie was waiting in the doorway. He didn't utter a thing, simply gestured for Jane to come in and pointed out the tent looking ridiculous in his crowded living room/kitchen area. "I don't have another room, this is the best I could do." He shrugged when he said it, but Jane gave him a long hug in appreciation. He was a good kid when you got right down to it. He shouldn't have had to take in his older sister.

"I pulled the double: night shift with a morning right after, so you have the place to yourself for a while," he said as he slipped into his room. Ten minutes later he reappeared. "Beer's in the fridge, game should be on at seven, and I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't treat her differently than usual. He didn't coddle her or force her into a hug. She loved him for that; for knowing her. For knowing her the best, not including her best friend. Or maybe it was ex-best friend now. If it was ex-wife, it was probably a good indication that they would no longer be LLBFFs. Even though they'd promised.

She contemplated the beer in the fridge, but she didn't want to steal his liquor. Plucking the spare set of keys from the counter, she left the apartment. She returned thirty minutes later with a bottle of vodka in a paper bag tucked under her arm. She'd give herself one night. One night to try and forget, to try not to feel anything, but that's all she'd get.

This wouldn't break her.

She'd make a game of it. For every good memory, one swallow. For every bad one, two. She eyed the bottle beside her. There were a lot of memories; one bottle wouldn't get them all done. She shook her head. That was the point. The aim of the game was not to die from alcohol poisoning. She couldn't go out like that, not about something like this. Just one night.

There was an unforeseen flaw to Jane's master plan. Alcohol doesn't actually make you forget; it just removes you from reality for a moment. It doesn't erase pain; it magnifies it. That was the lesson Jane learned while lying on the air mattress in her tent, in the middle of her younger brother's apartment, with a quarter bottle of vodka cradled beside her at three in the morning.

She couldn't stop crying. Rivers of tears streamed from her eyes, ugly sobs wracked her chest, and her nose was stuffed up. Still, she soldiered on. Two good memories in succession, causing yet another increase in her roller coaster-like crying jag. Another bad one. Two swallows. It led her to another painful memory. Two more swallows. And another. Two more.

It'd been eight and a half hours since she'd started her well-deserved pity party. With a last good reminiscence, she drained the bottle. Idly, with her vision scrambling before her eyes, she feared the massive hangover she'd have to endure when she woke. Looking around her at the dark canvas surrounding her, she was also thankful she'd hidden her phone. A blubbering, drunk phone call, vomiting out the sea of emotion within her, would have been disastrous.

Instead she made a promise to herself; one she hoped she'd remember and keep: Never let her know how much it hurts.


	4. Packing Up

She woke in the early afternoon, with a killer headache, to the sound of Frankie shuffling through the apartment. The soft closing of a door and a dull thud indicated that he'd gone straight to bed. She rolled over in her tent, eyes shut tight. Her body seemed to be consumed with the lingering feel of novocaine; everywhere except the harsh throbbing in her head at least.

It was Wednesday. She should be at work. Except, she wasn't allowed back until Monday and even then, only for desk duty.

Maura would be at work. Her chest tightened at the thought. She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, immediately regretting it with the surge of pain behind her eyelids. She pulled herself off her mattress and out of the tent before making her way shakily to the bathroom. Frankie was pretty organised despite being a guy; his ibuprofen was kept in his medicine cabinet.

She shook two into her palm, giving her scars a subconscious rub before slipping into the kitchen for a glass of water. They went down smoothly and as she brought the glass away from her lips, she noticed Frankie's keys lying on the counter. She contemplated them, but only for a moment. Frankie'd never even notice; he slept like the dead.

Snatching them up, she bolted for the door and didn't stop running until she got the car, despite the burning ache in her shoulder. In all honesty, she knew she shouldn't be driving. But since when has that ever stopped her before?

Half an hour later, she was parked on a familiar street, staking out her home. Well. Her old home. There weren't any lights on and the tell-tale shimmer of the Prius through the garage window was absent.

Maura wasn't home. It was about quarter to three; the doctor wouldn't leave her office until five at the earliest. Add in the twenty minutes of travel time... Jane had almost two hours to get in and out without a confrontation.

Two hours to put the happiest portion of her life into flimsy cardboard boxes. She did her best to prepare herself for the onslaught of emotion that would hit her as soon as she walked through the door. That house held so many memories, so many declarations of their love. She couldn't let herself fall apart at the sight of their couch, or Jo's and Bass' dishes in the corner of the kitchen, or... or their bed.

She wouldn't do that to herself; not here. She can break down when she gets back to her tent. Slamming the car door behind her, she stalked up to the house, hesitating only once on the front step.

The locks hadn't been changed, a fact Jane was thankful for. It made this entire thing a tiny bit easier. She bypassed the main house at first, heading straight into the garage to grab a few boxes. The plan wasn't to remove every part of her from the house; she had nowhere to put the things she'd accumulated during their time together. Instead, she just wanted to get some clothes and the things that held true sentimental value.

She closed her eyes, wrapping her good arm tightly around the empty boxes as she navigated the house from memory alone. Outside the bedroom door, she stopped and took a moment to collect herself. She rested her head against the frame, breathing deeply in an attempt to soothe her racing heart.

_You are Detective Jane Rizzoli-Isles. You will not submit to your fucking feelings right now. You're going to march into that room, decisively pack away the things you're taking, and then you are high-tailing it out of here, Missy. No fucking up._

She stepped authoritatively into the room, heading immediately for the dresser and closet. Her wardrobe was basic; that hadn't changed when they'd gotten together, and the clothes she was taking easily fit into one of the boxes, especially as she didn't take special care to fold everything to perfection.

Next, she tackled the bathroom; another easy feat. So long as she ignored the overflowing corner of Maura's products, it was easy to retrieve her bathing essentials. On instinct, she grabbed a few of the photographs they'd placed in frames around the room. It's not like Maura'd even notice they'd disappeared. Which is also why she took the photo albums they'd compiled together.

The time passed surprisingly quickly. After an hour and a half she had five boxes loaded into the back of Frankie's car; a difficult feat with one arm in a sling. It was only as she shuffled over the threshold of the house that she'd started tearing up. It was the backward glance into the suddenly lifeless and cold home which had once been vibrant and buzzing with energy that did her in.

She sniffled as she locked the door before bolting for the car. The return drive to Frankie's only took a fraction of the time it should have taken. Apparently it wasn't one of those days where Jane at least pretends to adhere to the posted speed limit.

She'd managed to get all the boxes upstairs and into her 'bedroom' before it hit her. She may never go back there again. A seer she was not, so she couldn't tell the future, but there was the very real and prominent possibility that she'd never walk through that door again, or journey through those halls, or watch a Sox game in that living room.

She dropped onto her bed and sobbed quietly, contemplating the infinity of future possibilities that had ceased to be probable because of a short hospital visit only a couple of days before. Because of her.

Then she simply sobbed because what else could she do? She was useless: to BPD, to her family, to Maura... Maura was just the first to realise it.


	5. Black Me Out

The house was empty when she walked in, but right away she could tell something was different; something had changed. She headed straight for the bedroom and that's when she knew.

Jane had been there.

Her knees felt weak and she braced herself against the door to keep from going vasovagal. It didn't work.

* * *

How was this going to work? She was still a detective, Maura was still the chief medical examiner, they'd have to interact eventually. They'd have to be polite. Have to pretend that _they_ had never existed.

But she couldn't do that. She couldn't just give up the memories of her happiness. And she shouldn't have to, God damn it. None of this should be happening. She should be driving in to work with Maura at this very moment, after a morning filled with lingering kisses and coffee and feeding the pets.

Damn it.

She didn't want this. She didn't want to not be married. She didn't want to be without her.

She couldn't. They meant too much to her.

Damn it, Maura.

What she wanted was to figure it out. What had sent her off the edge? Why was this bullet the catalyst when there had been other, more serious ones in the past?

Why didn't she want her anymore?

She had so many questions and then this rage started building in the bottom of her heart; a fire that blazed ever brighter with the fuel of reminiscences, adding more questions to the flames.

They were married, for Christ's sakes. She deserved some God damned answers.

It was only seven o'clock. No doubt, Maura would still be at home, relaxing on the couch with a glass of wine.

Unless, of course, she had a romantic visitor.

The thought constricted her chest, the emotional pain manifesting physically. She couldn't afford to think like that. Maura had been married, too. Surely it would take her at least a little while longer to move on?

Frankie had pulled the late shift, so it's not like there was anyone around to stop her.

She left before she could talk herself out of it.

* * *

When she recovered from her minor fainting episode, she fled the house almost immediately. She just needed some time before she could handle it. Truth be told, she hadn't been spending much time in the house; there were too many memories, too many feelings, etched onto every surface. She hopped into her car and drove off, unsure of when she would return.

* * *

The house was dark still, when Jane drove by the first time and once more Maura's Prius wasn't there. She parked down the road and out of sight, trekking back to the house on foot. She let herself in and before her mind caught up with her actions, she was already hanging up her blazer and slipping her shoes onto the rack by the door.

Old habits die hard.

She sat on the couch in a purposely uncomfortable position to keep her alert. She was still sitting there an hour later when Maura slumped through the front door.

Jane froze, waiting with bated breath for Maura to register her presence. She heard a sharp intake of breath followed by an equally breathy, "Jane?"

* * *

She didn't notice the subtle change when she'd first entered the darkened entrance way, but the sight of those boots and that jacket, hanging in the place they'd once belonged like they never left, caught her off guard.

She gasped before darting her eyes around the room. "Jane?"

And then she saw the mess of curls rising just over top the edge of the couch, and that overly familiar slender frame turn to face her.

It was too much. She had no time to prepare and she felt herself slipping away. Her knees buckled and she fainted.


	6. Remembering

_They'd just come off a long case, filled with dead ends and twists that even the dynamic duo had found difficult to navigate. But they'd finished their copious reports earlier that day so they decided they could use a night off._

_Little did Maura know that Jane had a plan up her sleeve, something she'd been working on since the second day of the case in anticipation of the long-haul. Unbeknownst to Maura, the detective had scarpered off to their home in the late afternoon, spinning the doctor a tale of having errands to run. It wasn't entirely untrue; Jane had gone shopping for a couple of little things that would be necessary for the evening's activities, but the majority of the time was spent setting up the bedroom and adjoining en-suite._

_When Maura walked through the door later that night, she was greeted by the succulent scent of Rizzoli lasagna and the soft glow of lit candles adorning the dining table. Fresh roses were in a vase atop the counter, and a smiling, sexy Jane was in the kitchen, holding a glass of wine in each hand._

_The entire meal was gentle, soft around the edges; just like Jane was around Maura. They talked quietly, content to listen to the calming tones of Maura's favourite arias and just enjoy the company. Gazes lingered unabashedly on lips and fingertips alike, the slow burn being relished by both parties._

_Jane cleared the table before taking Maura's hand in her own and leading her up the stairs to the bedroom. With no need to rush, Jane took her time in stripping Maura of her garments, taking care to fold them somewhat neatly lest she risk the doctor's wrath. The desire in Maura's eyes was crystal clear, a look that Jane had become very well acquainted with throughout their relationship, but as long as she could draw it out, she would._

_She pulled Maura into the bathroom, revealing the scalding bath she'd drawn just before Maura had pulled into the driveway. It had tempered to a slightly cooler warmth, but it still felt more than luxurious, especially as the brunette helped guide the doctor into the scented water._

"_Aren't you coming in?" Maura asked the still-clothed detective._

_Jane's lips turned upward at the corners, "If you'd like me to."_

_Maura ran an appraising eye over the body she'd come to know almost better than her own. "Please."_

_Jane complied quickly, shucking her clothing quickly, with complete disregard for possible wrinkling. Maura was too busy staring at each newly exposed inch of hot flesh to voice concerns about the fabrics' health._

_She sank into the tub, careful not to get water anywhere it shouldn't be, and sat between Maura's parted thighs. Her back was pressed flush against the doctor's skin and her body thrummed at the intimate contact._

_Maura leaned forward, placing nipping kisses along Jane's neck. She felt Jane turn her neck to allow her better access and grinned against tanned skin. She's the only person who could make Jane this compliant._

_Jane's hands drifted from her own legs to Maura's, her fingertips swirling across the backs of her thighs and raising goosebumps everywhere she touches._

_It's not as though they haven't had sex in here before, but no matter how much preparation they do, or how differently they go about it, the result is still the same._

_Water. Everywhere._

_Maura knew that they should stop before they can't, but she was pretty much past that point herself, given the long days they've had. Just as she reached the conscious decision to not stop this, Jane's fingers moved to give feathery touches along her inner thigh. Maura mewled at the-_

Her eyes wouldn't open, but they flickered in their sockets. She became immediately aware of an acute throbbing by the rear of her skull. She grasped mentally at the edges of the dream, but the slippery tendrils of memory pulled the images away. Suddenly, she recalled her fall, along with its cause, and she almost begged to slide back under the sheet of unconsciousness.

Footsteps sounded to her left before she was dreadfully certain that someone was scrutinizing her. She held as still as possible, trying in vain to convince the witness that she was still out like a light.

A gruff, "Maura?" let her know she was caught.


	7. Still

Jane turned just in time to watch Maura's body crumple to the floor. Despite everything, her immediate reaction was to lunge for her, launching herself over the couch and landing heavily on her knees beside the doctor.

Her eyes scrutinized every inch of Maura's face before moving on to roam over her entire frame. It was apparent that the doctor hadn't been eating lately; her cheekbones were just that much more prominent than usual, and her skin had a sickly pale pallor.

So badly, Jane wanted to be furious. She wanted to pull herself up to her feet, toss the love of her life a glare, and waltz determinedly out of the front door; effectively bringing her own conclusion to their not-so-happy tale.

But just the imagining of that brought the dull ache in her heart to a roaring tempest, made the unshed tears in her eyes that much harder to ignore as she stared down at the broken woman lying on the floor. The woman she used to call hers.

She brushed at her eyes with her sleeves, annoyed with herself. Then she pressed her hands and arms underneath Maura, and carried her to her bedroom.

Probably for the last time.

* * *

She could've used the unforeseen turn of events to indulge in her cowardice; she could've slipped away into the night and no one would ever know. Maura would probably just believe it was her tired imagination playing tricks on her. Yet there were still answers she needed. She wanted the whole damn story, to make for certain that if there was even the tiniest sliver of hope, she milked it for all it was worth.

So instead of disappearing and deserting Maura, Jane dragged the chair from the corner of their, well, Maura's, room and placed it directly in front of the door. Quietly she sat in it, desiring nothing more than to avoid jarring Maura out of her spell.

She waited.

An hour and a half later, after replying to Frankie's concerned "Jane, you okay?" text, Maura finally stirred.

Jane held her breath.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Maura surveyed the room and visibly started when she saw Jane by the door. She shot up in bed, hand automatically moving to smooth down her hair.

"What're you doing here?" Maura demanded, sounding more confident than she felt.

On purpose, Jane misunderstood her question. "You fainted, pretty badly, too. I brought you up here, but it wouldn't surprise me if you needed ice or some painkillers for that nasty bump on your head."

Maura cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow, wondering what the detective was playing at. "You know what I'm really asking."

Jane nodded, "I had some things I wanted to say. Seems to me our little hospital conversation was a bit one-sided." She raised an eyebrow at Maura, unable to keep herself from lapsing somewhat back in to old habits. "Who would've thought it; Maura Isles taking advantage of a patient under the influence of morphine."

Maura's eyes hardened into a glare. "I did no such thing, and you know it."

"Doesn't matter," Jane shrugged. "I just want to know what set you off, what made this trip to the hospital the kicker." She glanced down at her arm, "I mean, in all honesty, this is probably one of the least destructive bullet wounds I've attained over the years. So why is this one the catalyst?"

Maura was shaking her head before Jane had finished voicing her thoughts, "It's not about the injuries. At least, not entirely."

Jane waited. She was expecting something more, but an extra explanation would not be forthcoming, it seemed. "I can go out in the field a little less-" but Maura interrupted before Jane's offer could be completed.

"Jane, I just can't do it anymore! You condemned Ian for doing the same things you've been doing!" Frustrated tears streamed from her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them. "He may have checked out physically, but you check out emotionally. And it's not just every once in a while, you do it _constantly_."

She cleared her throat, "You said so yourself, I deserve more than that. So I'm walking away while I still can." She moved toward the door, but stopped abruptly when slender, elegant fingers encircled her wrist. She turned, only to meet the fiery gaze of a passionate Jane Rizzoli-Isles.

"You don't just get to change me and then leave! You can't make everything better, make me better, and then expect me to be perfectly fine when you go. I need you. I need you and I'm not letting go. I'm not letting you go." Jane loosened her grip on the doctor as she spoke, the words tumbling from her mouth without forethought.

"I will fight for you for the rest of my life because I'm not giving up. I still believe in you, in us, and every time I even try to entertain the idea of attempting a life worth living, without you in it, it breaks me." Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her pain to the one who caused it.

"You want to know what I'm afraid of? You want to know what haunts me in every waking moment and every single second of slumber?" She let out a short, humourless laugh. "Being without you!"

She shook her head, "So I'm not giving up. I signed those papers and I won't try to take that back, but married or not, best friends or not, I still need you. I still want you. I will still be here for you. And maybe, just maybe, you still need me, too."

"Jane, please don't-" Maura tried to speak, but Jane interrupted her, continuing her tirade as though the doctor hadn't said a word.

"Don't what, Maura? Tell you how I'm feeling? You spent years breaking down my walls to get me to share with you, you tell me you're leaving because I'm emotionally distant, so that's what I'm doing. I'm just trying to give you what you want," her voice grew soft towards the end; warm.

"I still love you, but I can't force you to love me back. So I'm going to go. If you want me, I'm staying with Frankie. Otherwise, I'll see you on Monday." Jane dropped her hand from Maura's arm, pushed the chair to one side, and disappeared through the door, her passion giving fuel to the confident cadence to her steps.


	8. Dreams

She stared at the door. Her heart thumping wildly in her chest was the only evidence that she was still alive. Time seemed to stand still; a scientific improbability, but everything was frozen in the moment. Everything stopped when _she_ left.

She gasped, choking back a lungful of air while staggering backward on wobbly knees. She fell onto the bed and tried to collect herself. Her mind whirled, trying to make sense of everything that had just passed, of everything Jane had said and done.

The ice around her heart thawed just a little bit. It wasn't easy to return to the clinical coldness which had served her perfectly well in the past, but she'd managed it. It wasn't easy to see Jane in that hospital bed, to be once-again reminded of the possibility of her detective's mortality never being questioned again, but she'd walked in there and given her the papers.

Life wasn't easy. It wasn't a fairy tale. It wasn't something you could map out and arrange to your heart's desire. Constantly, it took what you wished for and locked it up, throwing away the key while laughing at your desperate, unsuccessful attempts to attain your dreams.

Jane had been her dream. They'd been through so much together; she'd thought they were indestructible. Like she'd finally managed to open that ever-elusive treasure chest. But that's not how it worked. She'd been tricked; she thought she'd gotten what she desired, but it was a mere facsimile. She'd wanted Jane, all of her, and all she received were pieces.

She'd spent countless hours trying to fit those pieces together, but as time went on, they became fewer and farther between. It seemed like she'd never get the whole she craved. She couldn't live like that. She couldn't give every single part of herself and not be given the same in return. It wasn't the symbiotic relationship Maura needed.

It was never a matter of loving her. There was no question there, or at least, there hadn't been until that day in the hospital. She'd never stopped loving Jane. Never would.

But love isn't all that matters. Love and trust were the most important things to a relationship, in Maura's mind, and Jane still didn't trust her. Oh, she conceded that Jane trusted her more than others, but in all honesty, that wasn't saying much. The detective had always played it close to the vest.

It wasn't as though this was a decision Maura had taken lightly. She just couldn't stand for it any longer. She was so tired, so purely exhausted with never being good enough.

Abruptly, she jumped to her feet and made her way quickly to the den. She pulled a pad of paper from the stack against the wall and almost threw herself into the writing chair. Plucking a pen from the container on the corner of the desk, she started her letter to Jane. Confrontation had never been her strong suit, but essays and writing, with the structure and language, the time to go over and perfect the words, most certainly were.

Her pen glided over the paper, the doctor's handwritten script neat and flowing. And when she finished her letter, when it was signed and placed into an envelope, only then did she staple a different package of paper together. Only then did she fold those sheets and place them in that same envelope.

She sealed it, effectively sealing her fate at the same time. Then, in a state of eerie calm, she set off to deliver it.

It felt heavy in her hand as she slipped it under Frankie's door. She could try to blame it on the bulk of her letter of resignation, but she couldn't even lie to herself. She'd put everything into that missive, and now it was in Jane's care.

She slinked away under cover of darkness and returned home, waiting patiently in the kitchen for the light of dawn and the direction of her future.


	9. The Allocation of Fault

It was torture, seeing that envelope lying on the floor, acting all innocent. As if the handwriting wasn't easily discernible as Maura's. Picking it up from in front of the door, Frankie twisted it in his hands. Should he or shouldn't he? Does he give it to her? Does he throw it away? Does he pretend he never saw it and put it back by the door? Does he innocently prop it up against the coffee pot?

He ran a hand through his hair, torn. _Fuck it_, he thought, and tossed it into his 'random crap' drawer. If she found it, she found it. If not, she never has to know. He fought the temptation to linger in the apartment and wait for Jane to emerge, wait to see if she found it. That was far too Ma-like behaviour for Frankie to handle this early in the morning and he took a page from his sister's book. He didn't want to think about it, so he went for a run.

* * *

"Coffee, coffee, coffee... Frankie's gotta have coffee somewhere around this place," Jane exclaimed, opening and shutting the upper cabinets. She let out a groan of frustration before moving on to the drawers.

"Aha!" She grinned, extracting a packet of instant from the most random of drawers. As she started to close it, an envelope with all-too-familiar handwriting gave her pause.

_Jane_

Her heart stopped, breath stuttering in her throat. The plastic pouch fell from numb fingers, dropping softly to the tiled floor. _How long has Frankie had this?_

Trembling fingers plucked it from the drawer's depths as her back met the sharp edge of the counter. She slid to the floor, resting the thick paper bundle in her lap.

Her thoughts were conflicted: _do I open it? Do I even want to? What could she have to tell me that she can't or won't do in person?_

_What if I don't like what I see?_

The thought scared her more than she'd care to admit. If this was what she thought it was, she didn't want to read all the reasons why Jane fucked up their relationship. She didn't want to be reminded of every stupid decision she'd made, every time she'd unwittingly driven Maura further from her side.

_Who am I fucking kidding; I'm reading it._

It was inevitable. The mere fact that Maura wrote her anything meant she'd read it. She'd probably cry during it, but if Maura deemed it important enough to note, Jane would do so. Jane had always done so; she wasn't about to stop a habit which was over a decade in practice.

_Jane,_

_You drive me absolutely up the wall. You're like a dying star, imploding, folding in upon yourself until the moment you explode, shattering everything within a radius and decimating anything in the eye of it._

_If marriage was only about love, Jane, I'd never have given you those papers. But there is so much more to this sacrament than simply that. I loved you throughout our time together, and truth be told, I'm still in love with you now._

_In our vows, we promised to cherish, honour, and trust the other with every part of us. Jane, I'd kept my end of that promise. And I know that you're big, bad Detective Rizzoli; that you have an image to maintain, but when it's no longer just an image, when you stop taking off that mask when you come home to me, that's when you stop keeping your promise._

_I fell in love with you, Jane. With you. With your scars that tell me how brave - how determined - you are, with your propensity for sarcasm, with your insecurities, your humanity. And I know that you shared more of yourself with me than with anyone else. I know that. For years, I was content with that, even grateful, humbled._

_The crux of the matter isn't about love, Jane. It's about trust. And you don't trust me, not in the way you should be able to. You believe in us enough to be comfortable telling me your secrets, but I've been waiting for the day that you trust me with you and I'm afraid I've run out of patience._

_You hold back a lot. Maybe you think I don't see it, but I do. You hesitate, you rethink, and then you decide that you shouldn't divulge to me. It hurts. It hurts because I trust you with everything, yet you can't trust me enough to show me every part of you and believe that I won't run away from you. If you never let me look at the rest of you, how can I prove to you that I am here for you?_

_What makes you so sure I'm going to run, Jane? I wouldn't have ever run from you. But now I have no choice. Because if I don't run from you, I'll drown. I'll drown in the knowledge that I wasn't good enough for you – I've been there before._

_I can handle not being worthy of my parents' attention. I can deal with Hope never wanting to see me again. I can function through a lot of things, but the one thing I can't be satisfied with is knowing you, loving you, living with you, and being reminded day after day that I haven't changed at all. I am still that young teenage girl, sending away for boarding school pamphlets. I'm still the butt of the joke, standing alone at my front step waiting for a date that wouldn't show. I'm still 'Maura-the-Bora', still 'Queen of the Dead'. Only now I'm waiting at the altar, waiting for the rest of my soul mate to arrive when deep down, I know that there are parts of her that never will._

_You know how much I loathe the use of 'what if', or any statement or hypothetical perusal not based firmly in fact, but if I was a gambling woman, I would have placed my money on you being the one to make me feel like I was worth something. Turns out I would've lost substantially._

_Maybe it's not you, then. Maybe this is all on me and I've just been too blind to see it. I'm bossy and clinical, I take things far too literally, and I have little to no understanding of social interaction. Most likely, I have misread enough of our relationship to warrant deluding myself. That works, doesn't it? It's my fault, my fault, my most grievous fault._

_I will accept responsibility for this, Jane. You don't need to take any of the blame and you can pass me off as the villain in our story if that makes it easier for you and the rest of your life._

_As it is my fault, it seems only fitting that you decide how we best proceed. Attached, you'll find a letter of resignation addressed to BPD and signed by me. If my departure from this city would be your preference, all you have to do is send it in and I'll be gone within the week. If you feel as though we can continue to be civil and work well together, notwithstanding our current relationship (or lack thereof), then you can tear it up. I'll do whatever you decide._

_It wasn't fair of me to blame you, Jane, in the beginning, for any of this. All that's left to say is: I'm sorry I'm not the one for you. I truly wish I was._

_Maura_.

Her first impulse was to crumple it up and throw it as far as her arm could manage. Then she realized that there were tears on her cheeks and her sweaty fingers had smudged some of the ink. She brushed away the tears and wiped her hands on her lounge pants.

She read it again, fingering the second document that the letter had contained. It hurt to think about going back to work, seeing Maura every day and knowing she couldn't have her, couldn't kiss her, couldn't even touch her. But the thought of never seeing her again, the possibility of her moving on and away brought a roaring denial to the forefront of her mind, and she knew there was only one decision to make.

Reaching back into Frankie's drawer of crap, she dug around for matches. After locating a small book near the furthermost corner, she made her way to the sink and struck one. As she watched the flame sway with her exhales, she brought a sheaf of papers to the tiny blaze.

She almost chuckled as she watched the letter go up in smoke. When all that remained were white ashes, she turned on the tap and sent them down the drain.

She read the actual letter again.

So many things bothered her in those two pages. The biggest thing was the fact that Maura now blamed herself entirely for their marriage falling apart because that simply wasn't true. The second was Maura's analysis of Jane's trust issues. Taking a deep breath, Jane acknowledged that it was entirely true; she couldn't deny it.

There was no reason for her not to trust Maura implicitly, though. So why didn't she? Jane shook her head, trying to figure it out because maybe, just maybe, if she could find out what was wrong with her, she could try to get her doctor back.

An idea occurred to her. It was something she'd avoided her entire career, but there was the very distinct possibility that it would help her figure out her own head; that made it worth consideration.

She pulled out her laptop and accessed the BPD personnel database remotely. She found the number she was searching for and made a call.

"Hello, Doctor Matthews? It's Detective Jane Rizzoli-Isles, call sign Victor-825. I need to schedule an appointment with you as soon as possible."


	10. Beginnings

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Psychiatrists were never at the top of Jane's to-do list on the best of days, but in hindsight, perhaps Jane should have picked a different shrink than the BPD resident.

She almost slapped herself for the thoughts. She was here for Maura, but more than that, she was here for herself, and she shouldn't go into this so absolutely against it. It could only serve to hinder her progress, or at least that's what she gathered from the very few and far between conversations she'd had on the subject with Maura.

She'd only arrived five minutes prior to the set start time of their session, but after sitting down for a record thirty seconds, she'd jumped right back to her feet and paced.

"Jane, come on in," Dr. Matthews instructed as he held the door open, having watched the detective wear paths in the carpet and decided to ease her nerves.

They sat across from one another. Jane was fidgeting in her chair and Matthews was studying her as he unnecessarily shuffled papers on his desk.

"So Jane," Matthews began after a few moments. It was clear Jane wasn't going to begin herself. "What exactly brings you here?"

Her eyes darted down to her hands wringing in her lap. "I think I need help."

Matthews waited for details, but none were forthcoming. "What do you need help with?"

She flicked her gaze to meet his briefly. "I need to sort out my mind. I have these... mental blocks, I guess, I dunno, it was recently pointed out to me. But they're hindering the relationships in my life and I just – I need to fix it."

He tilted his head as he scrutinized her features. She seemed shy and almost vulnerable; nothing like the impassioned hard-ass detective he'd seen time and again after various close-calls with murderers. He'd heard the rumours, of course. When you work at BPD and you're as high-profile as both Jane and Maura are, the gossip is abundant.

He watched as she switched idly back and forth between massaging her palms and twisting her ring; a habit she'd picked up from Maura without really registering the fact. From what he could see of the woman in front of him, the tales seemed true; the doctor really had left the detective. And if what he gathered from her reply was correct, Maura had stated reasons about Jane's emotional status. Otherwise, why else would she be here?

"What kinds of blocks are you getting? Are you forgetting things or overlooking certain things?" He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and peered down at her, mundanely wishing he had glasses to fully complement the image.

Jane shook her head. "It's not like that, it's emotional I guess? I just don't seem to trust the people I know I can trust and it's driving them away."

He perked up at the pluralization. Was it more than just Maura then? Was Jane having other problems as well? "And you want to figure out why you don't let yourself trust them?"

She nodded.

He took a moment to contemplate it, attempting to decide the best course of action to begin with for the detective. He'd had her opposite him in the chair enough times to know that she didn't open up easily or give up any scrap of information without a fight.

"It'll take a lot of work, Jane, a lot of time. We're going to get into things you won't want to touch with a twenty foot pole, you're going to get upset with me and with yourself. But I'm willing to stay in for the journey if you're willing to try to work with me and not against me," he stated, settling back into his chair.

Jane nodded again, "I suppose that's only fair, Doc."

"Okay. Then I want you in here for at least an hour every day, starting tomorrow. Pick a time and we'll use that as the general outline. I know you get cases and you have to chase down leads and such, but this is just as important as chasing killers. Only you have partners to help you do that, but here it's just you and me. Can you commit to that?"

Jane swallowed. "I – yes. I can do that."

Matthews smiled, "Good. I think it would be best if we get into the heavy stuff tomorrow, so why don't you get out of here and enjoy your last day of freedom, eh?"

A snort escaped the detective's nose. " Sure thing, Doc." She got up and crossed to the closed door.

"Oh and Jane?" Matthews called as her fingers turned the knob. She looked back at him. "You can call me James."


	11. Regret

No word. It's been two days and she hasn't heard a whisper about it. It's been two days and neither Cavanaugh nor the Superintendent have marched down to her office to question her resignation.

She sat at her desk, staring blankly at the screen in front of her. Supposedly, she was typing up reports for previous examinations, but in all actuality, she couldn't focus on anything aside from Jane and things relating to Jane. The voice recorder sat, untouched, by the mouse.

_What did this mean?_ _Does Jane want her around still, even if only in the peripheral? Did Frankie intercept it and that's the only reason she still has a job? Or maybe she's waiting to make her move until Monday; it's only Saturday._

_Maybe she just needed time to think._

The guilt settling in her chest wouldn't even entertain the notion of Maura getting actual work done today. The source of the sickening emotion was the very same letter she'd given Jane a couple of days prior.

Despite everything, Maura was still unable to lie. She'd gotten so used to that fact throughout her life, that she rarely even attempted such deceit. There were the obvious inflections of her voice that gave her away during vocalized deceptions, but the physical signs, the fainting and the hives, still occurred no matter what the medium: vocal, written, or body language.

She'd almost take a vasovagal episode over the nausea, the physical manifestation of her guilt.

After she'd dropped that letter off, she'd realized that it could almost sound as if she was being a completely unyielding, incorrigible person; that even though she said she blamed herself, she was actually still blaming Jane.

But that was so far from the truth. Sometimes writing things down, organizing your thoughts, trying to make sense of the chaos roaming around your mind can help you reach that zone of clarity. That's what happened as she wrote that. All the evidence, all the logic, pointed to Maura being the one constant throughout her emotionally failing relationships.

Maura wasn't one to ignore the evidence.

She hoped that, although they weren't on the best of terms (and most likely would never return to anything more than the least satisfying shadow of what they'd been before), Jane still knew her better than anyone. That she wouldn't question the information she'd gathered over the years, and she'd know that Maura was being genuine.

Things weren't going Maura's way lately, though, so the hope didn't have a lot of faith to back it.

Maybe she'd been rash, with the divorce papers, that is. Maybe there was still a chance- but no, Jane had seemed so resigned at the hospital and then she said the other night that she wouldn't take back the signing of them. Maybe even Jane had run out of optimism for their relationship.

She'd tried to send them off directly after having Jane mark them, but she found she couldn't. There was an ache in her chest that protested violently when she'd attempted it, so she'd locked them in the bottom drawer of her desk until she was able to deal with it.

Truth was, her heart just wasn't ready to let go. She'd been Maura Rizzoli-Isles for so long, she'd been married to Jane for so long, that going back to Maura Isles seemed suffocating; impossible even.

Yes. The divorce papers weren't terribly well thought out, but they'd gotten Jane thinking, hadn't they? They're spurred her into action, albeit actions Maura could've gone without after all the fainting that day, but that's mostly irrelevant at this point.

She sighed and turned off her computer. Technically she didn't even have to be at the precinct today; she was only on call. But sitting at home was too ominous an option, hence her decision to try and accomplish something. Honestly, though, Maura only wanted two things: a snuggle with Jane on the couch, or a couple of bottles of wine.

The wine was less painless.


	12. Hoyt

"Just for clarification, you want to discover the source of your emotional trust block, correct?" Dr. Matthews asked.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Yeah, doc, just as I said yesterday."

He gave her a mildly amused glare over the rims of his glasses. "So, are we actually going to discuss all of the traumatic occurrences which have appeared in your life? Hoyt, Bianchi, et cetera?"

Jane swallowed the urge to growl at the very thought. "I suppose we're going to have to."

Dr. Matthews simply looked at her skeptically. "You're going to have to start fighting your urge to use sarcasm and diversion tactics if you want to make any kind of progress, Jane."

She sighed. She knew that, she did, but it was hard. She'd spent her entire life making sure her problems were her own and to just attempt to flip the switch and pour it all out? She had trouble coming to terms with it.

It was hard to ignore his searching stare, under which she felt herself deflate.

"Good. I know that you know, Jane. Sometimes, you just need to be reminded of that and of why you're here."

_Maura. Myself. My family. Maura._

_I can do this._

"Most likely, your 'block' as you've deigned to address it, stems from a devastation you've experienced. From what I know of you, I have an educated guess about the instigating factor, but just in case: before you joined BPD, did you experience any such events?" He leaned back in his chair to get comfortable.

At least this question was easy. "Nope. BPD kind of set the tone for stressful situations."

"So, Hoyt," Matthews stated, leaving the end of the fragment hanging.

"Hoyt," Jane agreed.

He gave her a minute to reflect on it, using the time diligently to bring back to mind all the case facts. He'd spent the latter part of yesterday buried in all of the Hoyt-related reports for this. If Jane wanted to give this the old college try, he didn't want to let her down.

"Why don't we start off easily?" Matthews offered. "How were you feeling when you first approached the house?"

She shuddered at the recollection. "I was stupid. I felt confident, over confident, that the take down would happen without a hitch. My mind wasn't as focused as it should have been and that's how I was knocked out with the two-by-four. Rookie mistake," she explained, chastising herself again.

He slowly walked her through entering the house and the basement, locating Cordell, and returning to consciousness only to find herself pinned to the concrete floor. For Jane's part, she was brutally honest about it all, even if it took a bit of coaxing for the trickier things.

"What was going through your head when Korsak appeared?"

Jane swallowed thickly. "I didn't want him to be there," she said automatically and then grimaced. "I mean, I'm glad he was there, he saved my life, but I just – I didn't want him to see me like that; weak, broken, unrespectable and incapable."

He bit his tongue to keep his calm. Really, this woman drove herself too hard, maintained standards that were too high for a long-term relationship, and he knew it wasn't necessary. Of course he knows that some guys in the department would give her shit about being a woman, but they are the ones who won't be appeased no matter how high her clearance rate or how well she does her job and it actually kind of infuriates him that she's trying to prove herself to people who don't matter; not to her.

Him telling her that, regardless of how true it is, wouldn't be beneficial. Rizzoli was the kind of person who had to come to these realizations herself, so all he could do was take the back seat and try to guide her along.

Instead, he asked her a question. "Jane, how many cops do you know who have been in the same sorts of situations as yourself? Not identical, but high-risk?"

She cocked her head to one side before answering, "At least three-quarters."

He nodded, "And how many of those incidents were you involved in?"

A brief pause for contemplation, "Maybe half."

His soft stare turned speculative on a dime. "After, did you think any less of them for having been in those situations?"

The lines on her jaw tightened and he watched the sudden comprehension appear on her face. "No."

He waited.

"But it's not the same!" She declared fervently, leaning forward in her chair. His gaze turned curious.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a woman!" Jane snarled without hesitation.

"You are," he agreed easily. "Your point?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Snapping her lips shut, she slumped down in her chair like a petulant child.

He sensed the opportunity to make some clear headway, "Jane, if you can't cleanse yourself of the pre-conceived notions of a woman on the police force, if you can't overcome the sexism in yourself, how can you demand it from other people?"


	13. One Small Step

_Oh yeah_, Jane thought. _I definitely recall why I hate going to see the shrink_. She was still floundering in the aftermath of Matthews' parting comment the previous day. Okay, so it was only his final comment because she'd been so caught off guard that she jumped up and practically sprinted from the office, but really, is that what he thought?

_Ugh, why am I letting this guy get in my head and mess me up?_

At least they were done discussing that particular encounter with Hoyt. The first one was always the worst. Well, wait, no it was a tie between the first and the last only because Maura'd been in danger that time and Jane still found it reprehensible that she, the one who always tried to protect the doctor, had lead her into that situation.

Her hands curled into fists in her lap, elbows pressing hard against the arms of the chair.

"Come in, Jane," the doctor called from behind his desk and she grudgingly complied. Sinking down into the chair, she didn't say a word, opting instead for him to begin.

He pondered her for a few moments before he spoke. "I apologize if what I said yesterday upset you," he paused to gauge her reaction. "But I won't take it back; every word of it is true, whether you realize that now or later is up to you."

Her jaw locked tightly, lips pressing into a thin line. Still, she said nothing.

He sighed, knowing full well that this particular avenue of discussion was nowhere near exhausted. He just didn't know which one of them would pull it back to the surface first. "Okay, second encounter with Hoyt?" He inquired and they were off, walking down memory lane once more.

_One hour later._

Jane marched down the street. It was a whim more than anything, but she couldn't get the visual of the rental ad out of her mind. Thoughts racing, she jogged up the steps.

Supposedly it was a one bedroom apartment, not too far from BPD but in almost the exactly opposite direction from her old one. The building was another walk-up, but that didn't bother her. She'd never lived in a place with an elevator and didn't feel the need to change that status any time soon.

If you asked her to recall her impromptu meeting with the realtor, she wouldn't have been able to give you a single detail; couldn't even remember if she'd been dealing with a man or a woman. Yet forty-five minutes later she found herself with a new sheaf of paperwork declaring her the new tenant as well as a shiny new key for her key ring.

She let herself back into Frankie's apartment without noticing that her brother was, in fact, at home. That's how stunned she was. Completely and utterly so.

"Hey Jane, don't I get a hello?" Frankie teased while he grabbed a couple of beers from his fridge. Jane jolted out of her trance.

"Oh, hey Frankie," she said, running a hand over her face. "Sorry, just kind of zoned out for a bit there."

"No problem," Frankie shrugged, handing her a bottle. "Something happen today?" he asked, taking a drag from his own bottle.

"Actually? Yeah. I'm pretty sure I just got an apartment," she stated as she sat down heavily on a stool by his kitchen counter.

Frankie choked on his beer. "Really?" he asked, gobsmacked. She nodded. "I – uh – when do you move in?"

She yanked the keys from her pocket. "I've already got the key, so if you don't mind letting me borrow your tent until I can go out and get a bed tomorrow, which by the way, you are definitely actually helping me move inside this time, I'll be out of your hair tonight."

He looked at her like she was from Mars, "Janie, you don't have to leave just to spend the night on some other hard floor. You can still stay here until you're ready to move in, I don't mind."

She stared at her brother, her kind, generous, reliable little sibling before casting a quick glance at his living room. "Really, Frankie, it's okay. Besides, I think it'll be good for me, a night in the new place. Give me some time to bond with it or whatever." She spoke without meeting his eyes, concentrating on peeling the label from her beer.

He didn't comment on the fact that it was five o'clock on a Saturday and traffic would be hell. He didn't point out that he really didn't know how to take down the tent he'd fought with to put up. He simply accepted the resolve made plain on her face and nodded, "Okay, Jane. Let's load up all your crap."

_Three hours later_.

Jane lay on her back on the hardwood flooring, not bothering to trifle with the tent or the bedding Frankie'd insisted she keep. She just kept staring at the ceiling; it was too low, for starters. She wouldn't bump her head or anything, but it just wasn't as high as she was used to.

The walls were the wrong shade of off-white, the flooring didn't creak in certain places; she couldn't stop herself from comparing her home with her apartment. The lack of a yapping Jo Friday or of Bass appearing in random places to be tripped over. Nothing she'd grown accustomed to over the years.

No Maura, but that in itself was getting easier. Oh, she still thought about her a great deal, but she was doing better with her emotional response. She'd heard someone on the street asking for "More" and her first thought hadn't been the doctor. Her second thought, yes, as well as her third and so forth, but it was progress, right? That shit's supposed to be good for her.

Maybe she had to be comfortable with just herself for a while. Maybe they'd grown too dependent on each other in a short space of time, refusing to discuss their near-death experiences by silent mutual agreement.

She could do this. She could learn to stand on her own two feet again, she'd done it before. Well, that's all she was before, before Maura, that is. Tough, bad-ass cop with a quick sarcastic wit and dry humour was kind of her stand by persona. She could become that again. She would.

And for fuck's sake, she was getting her dog back tomorrow, too, the little traitor.


	14. Gone

Sunday. Family dinner. But surely Angela wouldn't continue adhering to the tradition? Maura peered through the curtains in the kitchen to observe the guest house. There didn't appear to be anyone at home, which was unusual as Angela was always awake by seven in the morning.

Actually, come to think of it, Maura hadn't really seen the matriarch around since Jane's trip to the hospital. She cocked her head to contemplate before deciding to simply walk over there. It could simply be that Maura hadn't really been paying attention to anything not related to Jane or marriage, which meant somewhat actively ignoring Angela in the process.

She slipped on some shoes before crossing the yard and knocking on the door. She knocked again after receiving no response. Worrying that something had happened to the older woman, she tried the door. It opened easily beneath her fingers.

It was obvious that Angela was gone, truly gone, when Maura opened the door. Still, she made herself walk through the place, noticing every absence of a Rizzoli heirloom or masterpiece. She wasn't naive enough to believe that Angela would've stayed, but some small, irrational part of her had hoped for it.

Angela had left her a note, though, which was unexpected. Maura hadn't been aware of the possibility that she would leave something behind for her. It was nice: having someone who probably loathes you to leave you a parting remark. Of course, it was highly probable that the letter would be filled with blame and sadness, anger and distrust, but it meant that Angela had held her in high enough regard at one time to deem she deserved something more than an empty guest house and a recently vacant space in her heart that her own mother could never fill.

She'd known that giving up Jane would mean giving up her extended family. She'd accepted it, but it still hurt, it still _ached_. There was still that stifling, crippling pain in her chest as the reality of the emptiness consumed her.

The pain is part of what drove her to her decision. Before she'd met Jane, sure, she hadn't experienced that higher level of happiness that family and friends could supply, but she also hadn't experienced devastating loss either. It was a trade-off of sorts, and now that she'd spent time on both sides of the spectrum, she'd made her choice.

The choice to go on living without family, without an inner circle of friends, without Jane, her drug of choice. It hadn't been all her responsibility, she had taken other people into account, somewhat. Angela had a hard enough time keeping her three blood children under control, she didn't need to add to the woman's constantly high levels of stress and anxiety. Barry and Vince would no longer have to try and pick sides between the two of them when they were in the midst of a fight. Frankie no longer had to fret about Doyle coming to 'deal' with Jane or anyone else in the family. Tommy would no longer attempt to pursue a romantic relationship with her, now that she was an outcast to their clan, which would put him on better terms with Jane. And Jane, well, this was better for Jane in the long run due to many things: if she's no longer close to Maura, she's no longer in danger from the mob strong-arm; if she's no longer acquainted with Maura in any way, she'll no more feel the need to save her.

In return, Maura wouldn't have to hurt. She'd close off her heart, again, and she wouldn't have to feel the clutches of agonising flames licking the tender flesh of her heart whenever Jane couldn't be located, or was chasing down a threatening lead, or even went out to walk her dog. No matter what Maura may have said about her propensity for "What if" statements, the truth of the matter was that the hypotheticals, the possibilities always occurred to her. About everything. And it was driving her mental because even though the probabilities were in her favour, they were never one hundred percent. There was always the chance that Jane may never return.

That frightened her, and Maura couldn't keep living in fear.

Standing in the front hall of the guest house, she tore into the envelope.

_Dr. Isles,_

_I wasn't sure how to address this anymore. Two weeks ago, it would've been a no-brainer, but then again, two weeks ago this wouldn't have happened. I'm not going to ask why. I'm not going to yell or curse or hate you, but I do have to leave._

_I apologise for not doing this in person, but this was the only way I could say what I needed to say while remaining relatively calm._

_I will admit that I do not understand. I don't comprehend why this had to happen, or why it had to happen now. The two of you always seemed so happy with each other and then I get the news that you served her divorce papers. While she was in the hospital, no less._

_I just can't wrap my head around it. You were a daughter to me, Maura. I loved you, always thought you were good for my Janie and her for you._

_I'm not saying that we can never be friends, or even with a lot of time, get back to where we used to be. What I am saying is that we can't right now. I have to be there for her; someone has to. It used to be you, but I think she'll settle for me._

_Take care of yourself._

_Angela._

Maura's tears remained unshed. Dr. Isles of the past had returned.


	15. Should or Should Not

Maura was early into work on Monday, though not out of necessity. The nightmares were back with a vengeance and it's not like she could simply pick up the phone to call Jane and make sure she's alright; that she hadn't died in her arms, bleeding out on the pavement.

They'd been present every night, the dreams. Maura hadn't expected them to return with such vehemence; the years of their marriage lulling her into a sense of security. But that was what they created make-up for, and so none of her technicians could detect an upset within the doctor. They noticed, of course, that she'd become more reserved, yet they just chalked it up to the rumours of a falling out with Jane.

Their concern was sent to levels of high-alarm when Dr. Rizzoli-Isles changed her name plate back to just 'Isles'. Immediately they contacted their friends upstairs, digging for any information they could scramble together. All they discovered was that Detective Rizzoli-Isles was sitting at her desk, doing paperwork without a complaint.

Around noon, Maura left her office for her car in the garage. She was absolutely craving some organic green tea, but didn't want to see Angela in the cafe. Instead, she was greeted with the image of a curly-haired brunette, slipping into the driver's seat of her cruiser.

_Where's she going?_ Maura thought automatically. _She never leaves the precinct unless it's for lunch with me_.

She was going to leave Jane alone, really she was. Her decision was set on the tea house eight blocks away, but three minutes later she found herself tailing Jane's car from a couple of cars back. It was wrong, it wasn't any of her business, but the _curiousity_ was eating her alive.

Imagine her surprise when Jane parked in front of an office building, specifically the building housing the department's psychiatrist.

_Was Jane seeing someone, talking to someone?_ Maura wondered. _Was it helping?_

Having always self-diagnosed that she didn't have need of a 'shrink' as Jane would call those in the profession, she'd never been to see one herself. Well, aside from the mandatory session after her encounter with Hoyt, but that was simply a routine examination for her job.

_I've never just talked to a complete stranger about anything personal. Actually, I don't think that, apart from the few-and-far-between discussions Jane and I have had on the subject of dark emotions, I've talked to anyone._

_Should I?_

She gripped the steering wheel more firmly in her hands and weighed the pros and cons logically. She had almost talked herself out of it when she saw Jane emerge from the doors, looking grim but determined; passionate.

_I should_.

* * *

**You guys know I don't often post author notes and, hopefully, that I prefer to reply to reviews individually. However, I just wanted to say that even though this chapter is ridiculously short (even by my standards), it is important. This sets the premise for the next major bits of plot (read: we're going to shadow them through their respective counselling sessions). This means that this is not the end of the pain and the anger. It means this isn't the end of the hurt.**

**I just wanted to be a good sport and warn anyone who was perhaps on the fence about whether to continue with this story or not.**

**Also, it seems a lot of the guests hate Maura. This was not my intention, it's just the result of bad writing. Hopefully I'll get that particular sub-plot result to where I want it.**

**PS: I know that no one condemned my writing. I did, because I failed to convey what I was tryin to, but I'm going to fix that, so it'll be all good. I have every intention of finishing this story; there is no question of my continuing it.**


	16. Homework

The chair was suddenly uncomfortable, phantom bumps pressing into Jane's spine and legs. She rubbed her scars absently, ignoring Matthews' question.

He repeated it, "Jane, what made the third time different?"

She sighed, knowing full well that after they'd discussed the specifics of the encounter, he'd use the introduction to begin talking about Maura. It was only Monday, for Christ's sake, she didn't want to delve into that today.

"Maura was there," she answered, reluctantly.

"How did that, in any way, change the fact that you were back in Hoyt's clutches, fighting for your life again?" He wasn't looking right at her, instead observing her using his peripheral vision, but she still felt put on the spot.

She stared determinedly at the far edge of the north wall bookcase, refusing to meet his gaze as she answered, "Because now there was something valuable on the line: _her_ life."

"You valued it more than your own?"

She glanced briefly at his unyielding gaze. "Yes. Always."

"Why?"

She met his stare and seemed to sag under it, rubbing the scars on her palms absently. "Because she's Maura," she paused, knowing he would want her to elaborate. "She's so inherently _good_ and I'm just a cop with sarcasm and a gun. She's changed millions of people's lives, through her work with Medecins Sans Frontiers, various charities, and of course, her foundation." She sighed, "I just put bad guys in jail. Maura researches and experiments; she's a scientist who helps further our capabilities and understanding of things that are way over my head.

"Not only that, but her personality's better than mine, too. Sure, I mean, it takes a bit of getting used to, the Google-talk thing, but she's wonderful, kind, helpful, and generous." She laughed. "Fuck, if I could be her, I would. In a heartbeat. She deserves to stick around on this planet more than I do."

He stared at her over the tops of his glasses for a moment, letting all of that sink in. "Jane, how many murders did you solve last year?"

She looked at him confused, but answered, "About two hundred."

He nodded at the reply. "And of those, let's say, two hundred killers, how many of them had the behavioural tendencies to cause more pain and death had they been allowed to roam free?"

Her head tilted as she worked it out in her head. "I dunno, maybe three-quarters?"

"So really, if you think about it, by doing your job you've essentially saved a hundred and fifty innocent lives, at the minimum?" He continued on, pushing the question into the realm of the rhetorical. "That doesn't seem like anything to scoff at or belittle."

Uncomfortable, she straightened up in her chair.

"We're going to have to work on your self-esteem and how you view yourself, Jane," he informed her as he shuffled a couple of papers around on his desk. "Thus, I'm sending you with homework for tonight and I expect it to be completed for tomorrow," he warned.

"When you go home, I want you to write down twenty of your greatest accomplishments."

Her mouth dropped open, "Doc, I can't write that many-"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Don't even bother trying to get out of it. You will do it and you will bring it to your session tomorrow so we can discuss it," he said, his tone leaving no room for an argument.

She huffed at the demand and rose stiffly. Levelling a glare at him, she exited his office.

On the one hand, she could refuse to do as he asked, but that wouldn't get her any sort of progress. In the elevator ride down, she sighed as she realized what she had to do. She left the building with a grim sense of determination.


	17. First Time

"Good morning, Doctor. I'm Doctor James Matthews, as I'm sure you're aware, and I'll be the person you have your sessions with, so long as you have no objections," the psychiatrist introduced himself while gesturing for Maura to sit. She did so, primly on the edge of the chair with her back straight.

"Hello, Doctor Matthews. Please, call me Maura. I believe that given the sensitive nature of things we'll be discussing, the usage of first names seems only logical." Her inquisitive eyes met his methodical gaze.

He bowed his head in acquiescence, "As you wish." He flipped through a couple of pages in front of him. "Shall we begin?"

Maura was startled, though visibly hid her reaction. "Already?" She asked, trying to insert an innocent tone to the question. Her heart was starting to beat more quickly than before.

"Oh yes. Don't worry, we'll start very basically, I promise," he assured her, giving her a kind smile.

She peered intently at his neck. "Hemangioma of the skin. Not life-threatening," she murmured quietly.

He raised his eyebrow, but pretended not to hear her. He was well aware of his slight skin disorder, but didn't see how it would be pertinent to the topic at hand.

"So, Maura, why are you here?"

She opened her mouth to answer before softly letting it close. "I've been neglected by my parents for almost my entire life and I don't believe I've ever come to terms with that. I still allow it to aggravate me and dictate certain aspects of my life. Sometimes it causes me to lash out at the people I care about and I wish to bring that to a cessation," Maura explained.

Having dealt with Maura before, and knowing what he did about her inability to lie successfully, the blunt and straight-forward nature of her response didn't surprise him as much as it would have someone else. Still, he was impressed by her ability to remain logical and rational, even with herself as the subject.

He wondered, idly, how long it would last.

"Okay, but why are you here now? Why not next year? Why not three years ago? What happened recently to spur you into action?" He pressed, mostly for completeness, but also somewhat for his own curiousity.

The skin around her neck and chest area flushed as she thought briefly about lying. Then she tried to find a way to twist the truth to her advantage.

She found that she couldn't. "I saw Jane leaving here yesterday and it got me thinking that if big, badass Detective Rizzoli could admit to requiring help, then I could as well."

His eyes widened. "I have two subsequent questions. First, why did you think about lying and second, is it not Detective Rizzoli-_Isles_?"

Honestly, she should have foreseen that question. She tackled the easier one first, "I wasn't sure if it would be frowned upon to share that the decision was influenced by another coming to see you privately. I didn't know if you would infer it as an invasion of privacy or some such thing."

He nodded, "That seems perfectly acceptable." He waited for her to answer the second question he'd asked of her own accord. When it was obvious she would require either prodding or at the very least, a reminder, he spoke again, "Is it not Detective Rizzoli-Isles?"

Practicing some centring breathing from yoga, Maura took a moment before responding. "It is no longer a concern of mine as to what name the Detective chooses to use. I have withdrawn myself from that particular relationship and thus no longer have any valid input on the subject."

He blinked, almost without comprehending, "Do you mean to say that Jane and yourself are no longer involved? At all?"

Maura seemed equally disconcerted. "Jane didn't tell you?"

Matthews shook his head. "No, she neglected to mention the fact that you two were no longer together." He paused. "Although, in hindsight, that makes everything make sense."

Maura stomped down on the urge to ask the question that was begging to be spoken aloud inside of her head. It was no longer her business; no longer her privilege nor her right.

"How did that particular ending come about?"

She twisted the ring on her finger. "It was the last time she went to the hospital. I gave her divorce papers to sign and she did so."

In his head, James couldn't believe it. From all the peripherals he'd been granted as the team shrink, he'd thought for certain that these two were the real McCoy. "When did you file, or when does it become official?"

Maura swallowed noticeably before replying, "They're in my desk. I haven't yet sent them off."

Almost without permission, the "Why not?" escaped through his lips.

She looked almost taken aback. "She was like my other half. To sever that connection so completely in all definitions of the word is too much for me to handle at the moment. When I can get a good understanding of myself, then I can send them in." She gazed at his expression thoughtfully for a moment. "But she doesn't know I haven't sent them. For all intents and purposes, we are officially separated, if not divorced by law."

"So you wouldn't care if Jane showed up with a new lady?"

He watched as her eyes flashed quickly with anger before being replaced with a lingering, saddening solitude.

"I'm used to being alone, to having people leave me alone to be with other people. It was only ever a matter of time before Jane threw that particular curve-ball at me. I just wanted to pre-emptively strike."

_She still loves her,_ he acknowledged in his head, but he knew that now was not the time to bring that up. They had to work on her trust issues, so he filed it away in his mind.

But not before saying one final thing before the end of their first session.

"Maura? You're the one who did the leaving."


	18. When the First Wall Breaks

Surrounded by IKEA boxes, Jane sat in the middle of her apartment's living space, petting Jo Friday. She'd stopped by the pathologist's place of residence on her way back from the shrink to get her scruffy canine and now they were steadily working their way through the construction of Jane's new furniture.

The bed was the first thing she'd built and so far, it had also taken the longest amount of time. It was so worth it, though. When she'd flopped on it experimentally after tossing the mattress on the frame, it had felt like heaven. Almost as amazing as the bed she used to share with the doctor.

She'd also finished one of the bedside tables as well as the coffee table, but she was quickly running out of beer and energy to continue her efforts.

Then she remembered the 'homework' she'd been assigned by Matthews for tomorrow. Groaning aloud, she dug into her boxes of books in an attempt to find a pad of paper. Successful in that regard, she grabbed one of the realtor's pens from the kitchen counter before resuming her comfortable seating position in front of her coffee table.

The blank page mocked her. She pulled herself to her feet and got a beer from the fridge before settling before it again. She started with what doubled as the happiest day of her life. And she built up from there. At the end of the better part of an hour, she was still short.

_Marrying Maura_

_Killing Hoyt_

_Saving Maur from Rockmond_

_Sixth Grade Pianist of the Year_

_Putting killers behind bars_

_Senior Year Softball State Champs_

_Regaining use of hands – post Hoyt_

_Surviving Bianchi_

She eyed the paper in an accusatory fashion. _How the fucking hell am I supposed to come up with thirteen more? I just haven't done that much!_

Dropping the pen in defeat, she snorted at her 'complete' assignment. Picking up her bottle from the floor, she picked herself up and headed off to bed. Matthews could just deal with it.

* * *

"Jane, did you not understand the concept of _twenty_ accomplishments, or did you simply choose to ignore my request?" Dr. Matthews asked, glancing at the detective in exasperation.

Jane fought the urge to smirk. "I could only think of what's on the page, Doc," she shrugged.

He rolled his eyes in such a way that she was almost impressed. "Jane, even I could come up with more than this, and I don't know all that much about you."

She snorted. "Well then why didn't you just do it, then?"

He gave her a you-know-exactly-why look, "Because the point of the exercise is not simply for it to be done. The point is for you to do it, and in doing so, acknowledge that you've done some extraordinary things during your time here on Earth. It's one thing for me to know it; it's another for you to _accept_ it." He paused and cocked his head, "And isn't that why you're here?"

She shifted guiltily in her chair, feeling oddly like a reprimanded child in the principal's office. Involuntarily, she shuddered at the thought.

He chose to ignore it, "Why don't we finish this together, then?"

Offering him a small smile, she nodded, shifting her chair closer to him and the paper. He glanced over her meagre compilation. "I would first suggest that, if saving Maura from Rockmond is one of your offerings, then perhaps also saving her – and by extension, yourself – from Hoyt during your third encounter may also suffice."

Feeling her heart pound deeply in her chest at the flood of images accompanying his statement, she swallowed tightly against the swelling in her throat. _Maura's fine. Hoyt's gone. All she's got is that tiny scar. It's okay._ Wordlessly, she added it to her list.

"So, what, I should just write down any time I've saved someone?"

He shook his head. "Not necessarily. I want you to write down the times where you conquered something. I know that you aren't proud when you save yourself. I know that you, actually, get upset with yourself when that happens, but we're going to try and help you through that," he took a moment to organise his thoughts. "Take your first encounter with Hoyt. It's admirable and almost unbelievable that you managed to track him down and live to tell the tale. But you don't see it that way. In your eyes, you fucked up, right? You didn't wait for back up, you didn't clear the room, you didn't this or you didn't that and those things are all that flow through your mind when I bring that situation up." He leaned forward in his chair, intensifying the atmosphere surrounding them.

"But you should be proud that you caught him; proud that even though he stuck those scalpels through your hands, you worked and toiled to regain control over them again. You _persevered_, Jane, and that is true accomplishment."

Jane's eyes welled with tears at the doctor's impassioned, impromptu speech. Despite everything, she didn't want him to see her cry, so she jumped up from her chair and bolted for the door.

He grabbed her hand as she slipped through the door, slipping the list back into her possession. "Try again," he told her softly, and then he let her go.

Her fingers tightened around the page, crumpling it into her palm as she raised the back of her hands to her eyes to wipe away her tears. With vision that blurry, Jane couldn't have recognised the fancily-dressed, misshapen blob which was Maura, waiting patiently on a chair for her turn.


	19. Indignation

Maura jumped up from her seat without thought and burst through the doctor's door, demanding loudly, "What did you do to her?!"

His look of astonishment was entirely genuine. "Doctor Isles, you know I can't comment on another patient's session!" His tone was still surprised, but reprimanding nonetheless.

Maura's eyes seemed to flare, "I'm her wife!" she informed him haughtily, just a sliver of indignation accompanying the severe tone.

He almost laughed. "You gave her divorce papers. Are you really her _wife_?" The words spilled from his lips before he really processed them. Inwardly he flinched at his own bluntness. It didn't matter that he was still taken aback by her entrance. He was a professional and shouldn't have replied so carelessly. Clearly, the woman was having emotional difficulties.

Her mouth opened to retaliate, to defend her outburst, but then her entire body seemed to sag as she realised that she couldn't. She had absolutely no right to care about Jane anymore. She dropped into the chair Jane had just vacated heavily; nothing at all like the Maura Isles Dr. Matthews was familiar with. He'd have to tread carefully.

"Legally, technically, I still am, but you're right, of course. Physically and emotionally, no, I'm not." She sighed, turning the ring on her middle finger absently.

He could feel the palpable silence, knew she was omitting something. "Maura? What is it?"

Her eyes darted around the room quickly, searching for something other than his person to focus on. "I just – I know what I did, and I stand by my reasoning for doing it, but there's still a part of me that's still so completely her wife. There's this piece and it tells me, when I'm lying in bed alone at night that she should be there; that she should be in the kitchen, watching me with half-closed eyes in the morning while she sips her coffee. And as you can see, that part of me still feels strongly for her; is inexplicably drawn to her even now."

She shook her head. "And I don't even know why."

He peered at her calculatingly over his glasses. "Yes, you do. You know. Think about it." And then he waited, silently, giving her the space to come to the conclusion herself.

Her sharp intake of breath gave away her eureka moment.

He nodded. "That's right. You're in love with her. You've never stopped." A brief pause to ascertain whether or not she's ready to hear the rest. "You'll probably never stop. The way I see it, you bottled up what you were feeling, the two of you stopped communicating, and then it exploded with the catalyst of her hospital visit. There were too many latent emotions for you to deal with that you decided it would simply be easier to pull away completely, no matter how much it broke each of you."

She bobbed her head at that, seeming to accept it. "What should I do?" And then her eyes rose to meet his, blazing with the passionate need to _know_.

His head tilted as he studied her. "What do you want to do?"

She swallowed thickly. "I think... I think I want to try and get her back. But I also think that perhaps I should finish tackling those issues I told you about previously first."

He smiled widely. "I concur with your thoughts. So I will see you again tomorrow? I believe you've had enough for one day."

"Yes, James," she said as she got to her feet. "And I apologise about coming in early. I didn't mean to almost run into Jane, I just have meetings later today and it didn't even occur to me that she'd be here."

He moved past her to hold open his door, "It's okay, Maura. We'll go back to our usual time tomorrow and hopefully we won't cut it so close again. I think Jane just needs a little time from knowing you're here, too."

She paused, halfway through the door, to look at him quizzically. Shrugging his shoulders, he explained, "Right now, she feels like the world's plotting against her at every turn. I don't want her to see me as one of _them_ just when she's starting to open up to me."


	20. Baby Steps

"Excellent, Jane, I'm very impressed with your progress," Dr. Matthews praised amicably as he evaluated her over the rims of his glasses.

"Thanks, Doc."

"You have two new assignments today, but only one of which should be prepared for tomorrow. The other one can take you the rest of the week, if you require it. The first is, tonight, I want you to meditate," he almost chuckled at the glare he received. "Stop that, i don't mean in the 'Ohm, ohm' fashion, I mean I want you to take some time to yourself, half an hour, an hour, and just sit down and sort out your thoughts. Process some things. Reevaluate other things. Just take some time to get to know the you of today."

Jane nodded. That, at least, she could accomplish.

"The second thing is also quite simple, but I have the feeling it will be the harder of the two, hence the time extension. I want you to write a letter to Maura. Anything you want to say, anything you wish you could've said or should've done, or what have you. You can yell or scream or swear or simply rant to her, but it must be addressed to her and written as though she is going to read it."

Jane opened her mouth to protest, but Matthews held his hand up preemptively. "Ah, ah, ah. I know what you're going to say. I also know what you're going to ask. My answer is that for the 'right now' it will make you feel better and help you sort some things out. In the long run you can think of it as such, when the time comes when you feel like you can give that letter to Maura and be okay with it, that is when our time together is complete."

She didn't say much that session, but Matthews seemed content to let her mull her mind over. He even let her go a few minutes early, acutely aware they would achieve nothing more that day.

* * *

Her car was halfway to the house on Beacon Hill before she caught herself. She swore before executing a rather hazardous u-turn to head back in the direction of her new apartment.

She collapsed onto her new couch fully dressed. Pulling a blanket from a box beside the new piece of furniture, she tapped the seat beside her for Jo to hop up.

_I can totally just fake the whole 'I meditated thing, right?'_

She was so tired. She just wanted to pet Jo and sink into unconscious bliss for a bit.

Twenty minutes of fur-petting later, Jane was out like a light.

* * *

**Sorry it took such a large amount of time and it's not a good length, but I'm ridiculously busy, I apologize. The next chapter will be better/longer, I promise!**


	21. I'm On My Way

_Their first anniversary was far from the textbook definition of perfection. But it was just that: perfect. For them._

_The day began way too early for either of their liking, with a body drop at three a.m. They answered their phones groggily, in their usual echo of 'Rizzoli' and 'Isles'. After they hung up with dispatch, they traded soft smiles and lingering kisses. They whispered 'Happy anniversary' to each other with bright eyes before they slunk out of bed to face the day._

_Maura had arranged for different officers to approach the detective throughout the day with small gifts of appreciation and inside jokes._

_Jane had persuaded various lab technicians to provide the doctor with pictures of the two of them throughout their relationship, with Jane's personal annotations included on the backs for Maura's enjoyment._

_They were small things, minor details, but it meant the world to each of them that the other had put such thought and consideration into the gifts._

_Bass and Jo were not left out of the festivities either. Once six o'clock had rolled around, the pair sprinted for home to present the pets with their own anniversary gifts. Bass received a large box of British strawberries, courtesy of Jane, while Maura gave one very excited Jo Friday a new chew toy._

_Jane wrapped an arm around Maura's waist and kissed her delicately on the cheek before sending her upstairs to change for their dinner reservation at seven. Regardless of the fact that they were both absolutely exhausted, they were anticipating the romantic air of the rest of the evening._

_Both ladies were decked out in dresses when they met back up at the front door. Jane's was a midnight blue, sleeveless knee-length, whereas Maura's was a burgundy, strapless one. They briefly debated forgoing dinner entirely once they saw what the other was wearing, but as fate would have it, before any sinful activities could begin, Angela walked in the front door._

"_Oh, my girls, you look absolutely stunning!" She smiled widely at the two picturesque women._

_Jane blushed, "Ma..."_

_Maura grinned at the look on her wife's face and thanked Angela for the compliment._

"_I just came over to ask if you two wanted me to make myself scarce for the evening...?" Angela enquired, throwing the two of them a knowing look._

_Jane returned it with a look of her own. "Sure Ma, it's not like you timed it just so you' catch us all dressed up before we went for dinner or anything."_

_Angela gave a half-shrug that would've impressed Jane on any other occasion. "Of course not. But now that you mention it, I do happen to have my camera right here." She pulled it out and snapped a few quick pictures of the two before excusing herself._

"_My mother-" Jane began._

"_Is a wonderful human being who just wishes to be a part of your life?" Maura finished. "Yes, I agree."_

_Jane hummed happily, "You're perfect."_

_Maura rolled her eyes, but seemed pleased nevertheless. "Come on, let's go to dinner. We're not getting more youthful."_

_Snorting, Jane corrected her, "It's 'we're not getting any younger', Maur." The doctor was thoughtful for a moment. "It sounds more poetic my way."_

_Jane simply escorted her out of the house, a small smirk gracing her lips._

She was startled awake by a raucous thud, losing the lingering tendrils of her dream. No, of her memory.

The statistics she'd gathered told her that it was a 99% probability that it was only Bass who'd managed to bump into something in the midst of his midnight jaunt, but she'd always had Jane beside her to protect her from that one percent. No matter what time it was, or how many nights Maura'd woken from the same sort of noise, Jane would always get up, take her firearm, and scope out the house just in case.

They'd never had a problem.

It's not like Maura couldn't defend herself, but even now she couldn't make herself slip out of bed to investigate. Her legs curled up in front of her, putting her in a child-like embrace with her arms hugging her knees. There wasn't even Jo around to snuggle with or send on a scouting mission.

She was alone.

She was alone and there was something moving downstairs. Without thinking, she reached for her phone on the nightstand and dialled the number automatically.

" 'Lo?" a tired, but not groggy voice answered. She hadn't been asleep.

"Jane?" Maura whispered in a small voice.

"Maur?" Jane asked, shocked.

"There's something in the house."

Jane cleared her throat quietly. "I'll be by in half an hour to take a look. Spare key still in the same place?"

Maura nodded before realizing Jane wouldn't be able to see it. "Yes."

"Stay where you are. I'm on my way."


	22. Okay

She didn't allow herself to think about it or read too much into it. Maura was scared and Jane was the experienced one to call. Nothing more, nothing less. She'd scope out the house, report back to the doctor, and then leave without causing a scene.

After she pulled up, she removed her gun from the holster at her waist with her left hand while she searched for the key with her right. Once the door was unlocked, she took a calming breath before slipping her flashlight out of her pocket to make her entry.

She went through the familiar house systematically, using a slightly varied version of the sweep she usually made when doing this for Maura as her wife. When all the rooms were clear, she picked Bass up from the kitchen floor and together they travelled upstairs.

The door to the master bedroom was slightly ajar, but Jane knocked regardless.

"Jane?" Maura's voice called hesitantly.

"It's me," she confirmed. "May I?" she asked and placed her hand on the knob.

"I – yes, of course."

The doctor was still huddled under the covers and made no attempt to reposition herself as Jane entered and headed straight for her. The detective placed Bass on the bed beside his owner and almost smile as the reptile automatically moved closer. Maura placed an absent hand on his shell, gently stroking him for comfort.

"The house is clear, Maur. You can go back to sleep," Jane informed her and then turned to leave.

"Wait, Jane!" Maura scampered out of bed and rushed towards her. She flung her arms around the brunette's neck and pulled her in for a tight squeeze. "Thank you."

Jane barely heard her. Her own limbs had acted of their own accord, wrapping around the familiar waist with ease. It was Maura's scent which froze her. It had been so long since she'd gotten close enough to catch a whiff, that the sudden sensory overload was too much for her.

"You're welcome," Jane managed to choke out after a moment. She awkwardly patted Maura's lower back, trying to signal that their embrace should end, before she realized that Maura was shaking. She was crying softly into Jane's shoulder, almost silently. "Oh, Maur, what's wrong?"

The question only made her sob harder. "I'm sorry," Maura murmured against Jane's shirt. "I'm so, so sorry." Over and over again, like an emotionally broken record.

"Sweetheart," the term of endearment left her lips without a second thought. "Why are you sorry?"

"I should'nt have -" she paused to snuffle, "I shouldn't have given you those papers, Jane. I was being so incredibly stupid and completely irrational and ridiculous and _I just wish I could take it back_."

Jane's mouth went dry and she couldn't for the life of her find a single word to utter. She tensed, her mind flickering between fight or flight, but Maura's voice kept her still.

"Please don't leave me. I know I don't deserve it. God, I know I don't deserve any of this, but please don't leave me. Just one more night with you. _Please_." The desperation in her tone wormed its way into Jane's heart and she knew that she would be hearing that tone, that voice, those words inside of her heart for the rest of her life.

"Okay."


	23. Sleepless Night

When she awoke, a smile was already on her face, but once the events of the past six hours had refreshed themselves in her mind, it faded instantly with a single glance to the cold sheets beside her.

_She's gone._

* * *

She'd managed to slip away a couple of hours after Maura had begged her to stay. Once the breaths of the blonde beside her had evened out, she waited until she was sure Maura wouldn't wake again that night. Then she gently removed the arm that had wound itself around her waist at some point in the night, and let herself out.

The night air was sharp and brisk against her cheeks as she stepped toward her car. Her drive back to her apartment was quiet and pensive; she used the time to try and organize her thoughts and wrap her brain around what the hell just happened.

_What did she mean, she wishes she could take it back?_

She pulled up in front of her apartment, but didn't get out of the car. _I don't understand this, any of this._ Shaking her head, she grasped the wheel tightly between her aching hands.

And then she cried, sobbing wretchedly out of frustration and pure confusion. She had so many questions, but no answers, and the only person who could give her those responses seemed more messed up than she was at the moment.

_It shouldn't have to be this hard. When did we get so complicated? When did we drift so far apart from each other? There was a time I could almost read her mind, a time when she knew me better than I knew myself. Where has that time gone? Where did we wander off the path to go stumbling into these woods of uncertainty and second-guessing?_

She walked up to her apartment morosely and laid down on the bed. She wasn't stupid; she knew no sleep would find her tonight, no unconsciousness would rescue her from the maelstrom raging inside of her.

* * *

Matthews was surprised to see the detective waiting almost patiently outside of his office when he arrived that morning. One glance at her was all it took, though, to know that today's session would be long and emotionally fraught. Her look had tortured written all over it, but he didn't know how far they'd be able to push before those walls sent him sprawling, struggling for stable footing.

He gestured for her to follow him in, glancing at his datebook as he passed it. Her appointment was his first of the day and wasn't until the lunch hour, but he'd cleared his morning just the other day so he could devote this time to paperwork. Instead, he'd be making dents in the armour of Detective Jane Rizzoli-Isles.

He sat on the edge of his desk, body language signalling that he was ready and open for whatever might be on her mind. Jane hung near the back of the room, slowly pacing before the closed door. _Some people you have to push,_ he recalled from one of his first lectures on psychiatry. _Some of them you just have to out-wait._ Jane was definitely the latter.

"I didn't do my homework." It's the first thing she's said since she left Maura's side, the only semblance of normalcy she can manage to give.

"That's alright. We have busy lives, things get in the way." He kept his answer light, hoping to put her more at ease. The hitch in their interaction grew pregnant.

She wrung her hands, massaging the scars on her palms from the centre towards the fingers, a habit Maura had introduced her to, and now she did it whenever she felt nervous or uncomfortable.

"I don't even know what happened, Doc. One minute I'm sitting on my couch, petting Jo and attempting to meditate, and the next, Maura's calling me sounding scared and I'm rushing over to protect her." She ran her hands through her hair in an agitated fashion. "Then she says all this stuff that doesn't make any sense and I'm stuck trying to figure out what the hell it all means."

He was shocked. He didn't know quite what to say, but he knew that there were a whole lot of specifics to do with that story that Jane had left out. "Maybe you should tell me everything, but this time begin at the start."

When she didn't elaborate, he prompted her, "You were petting Jo?"

She nodded and then the story of the night's events fell haphazardly from her lips.

* * *

At the end of her tale, Matthews let out a shaky breath. He hadn't even had to go through it and he felt emotionally drained. A recurring thought came back to him and he thought maybe now would be a good time to broach the subject, if only to gauge Jane's reaction.

"Jane, I realize that you have a lot of questions, some of which I can help you with, but other which require you to speak with Maura," he hesitated, but she hadn't flung anything at him so far. He continued, "How would you feel about doing a joint session with her?"

He registered the unadulterated panic in her eyes immediately and moved to stonewall it. "Not now, maybe not even this week or this month, but I think that it would be good for you, for the both of you, to participate together at some point."

"I don't – I can't – I-"

"You don't have to decide now, Jane. We have time. Just think about it. Maybe it's something you'll want, a controlled environment in which to as her the questions that are burning you up inside. Maybe you won't ever want to talk to her again, about anything, but it's just an idea. Don't let it tear you up," he counselled.

"Do you have to go in to work today?" He asked. She shook her head. "Good," he nodded. "Go home, try to sleep, try to meditate." He escorted her to the door. "You look like hell, Rizzoli."

She chuckled.


	24. Endless Possibilities

_Six months later_.

When James first broached the topic of a joint session, Maura had been under the impression it would've occurred in a week, maybe two weeks at most. She hadn't been expecting the offer to reintroduce itself almost half a year later.

Half a year of pointed professionalism with Jane. Half a year of emotional exhaustion, dealing with their respective issues and problems. Half a year of sleepless, lonely nights and cheerless, sunlit days.

She'd received one letter from Jane, about a week back. The paper was worn and it was obvious that it had been folded and unfolded numerous times. Even the ink was starting to fade and smudge, like it had been carried around in a pocket for far too long.

She can't remember it word for word, but she remembers the major points and the roller-coaster of feelings it took her own. Guilt was first, followed abruptly by regret and sadness. On and on, through each new paragraph, every new sentence, page after page until the end. The final passage, written in a different pen at a later point, gave her hope and this one she can recall verbatim.

"_I've never stopped loving you, Maura. I don't know what that means to you, to us, or if it even matters, but it's the truth. I don't know if we'll ever be able to be friends again, and though I think I still want more than that, I won't push for it. You'll never make the same mistake twice, and I respect that, admire that about you. Always have. If our friendship meant anything to you and you'd like to try and get that back, I can make no guarantees that we'll succeed, but if you're willing to try, I am too. Dr. James Matthews has offered to do a joint therapy session for you and me. Whether you decide to or not, please call him and give him your answer. It may not help with anything. It could be the worst decision we ever made, but maybe it's just the thing to get us back on track."_

She'd called James bright and early the next day, unable to keep pleasure from tinting her side of the conversation. Now here she was, standing outside of his office, too nervous to knock on the door.

_What do I say to her? What's going to happen? Was I too eager? What if we can't get back to where we were?_

_What if I really lose her this time?_

_What if-_

"You know, the Maura Isles I know doesn't like to dwell on what if's," a familiar husky voice drawled from behind her. She spun around, yanking her hand back from floating over top of the doorknob.

"I – how did you know?"

Jane reached around her to open the door herself. "You had that look on your face," she shrugged and walked inside.

Maura's heart rate increased, she could feel it beating harder and faster than it had in ages. Well, six months if she was being accurate.

She followed Jane inside.

They talked. They shared an honesty they hadn't felt between them for ages return with a vengeance. Jane's sarcasm was notably diminished; Maura could count on one hand how many times she used it. The brunette seemed at ease in this office, like it was a home away from home, a place where she sought comfort and solace.

They talked. Maura learned new things about the new Jane and she was impressed by the fact that no matter what she asked the detective, Jane never once attempted to avoid answering with a deflection.

She felt her walls coming down, as they always did in Jane's presence. After they discussed their marriage (as well as their entire relationship), they touched on what they'd done since their parting of ways. Then James caught her eye through the lenses of his glasses and nodded slightly.

"Jane, there's something I have to tell you," Maura admitted, reaching into her purse for the folder. She handed it over before she spoke again. "I never filed." Jane made no move to open the file.

"I know," she said finally, slouching in her chair a bit. "I called them once, a couple of months back, to find out when it would be finalized. I had this woman on the phone for over an hour trying to locate the damn thing, telling her that it was there, that it had to be, and could she please look again. After the fifth time around, I thanked her and let it go." She paused. "Then I came here and practically forced James to spill his guts."

Matthews chuckled at her comment. "She only asked me to confirm what she already knew." Jane raised her eyebrow at his version of events. She could clearly remember pacing the room, rambling on about what it meant, asking rhetorically if she was crazy. Finally he took pity on her and divulged the information. He didn't find it to be a breach of confidentiality with Maura, as in a previous session she'd said she wanted to tell Jane, but didn't know how.

Maura felt a tiny pinprick of jealously at the ease of their interactions, this new duo of doctor and detective. Her heart ached for a return to the days where she was the doctor in the relationship.

"Well ladies, dare I say it but I believe this has been a success," James clapped his hands proudly. "However, my office is about to close, and no matter how much I enjoy your company, I'd really love to go home to my wife. So, we can schedule another joint session for the two of you, if you'd like...?"

Maura's eyes met Jane's and for the first time in a long time, they had one of their patented wordless conversations.

"Tomorrow, same time?" Jane asked. Maura fought the urge to reach over and take Jane's hand in hers.

"I'll see you then," he agreed and showed them to the door.

The elevator ride wasn't anywhere near as awkward as Maura predicted it would be. It was their farewell outside of those great glass doors which proved the most challenging. They didn't know what to do. Do they hug? Shake hands? Simply say goodbye and move on?

Maura settled for smiling lightly and murmuring a soft, "Bye, Jay." She'd already turned toward her car when she felt long fingers wrap around her wrist. She twirled back.

Dark eyes searched hers for a moment. "I'm meeting up with the guys at the Robber for a drink," she stated, grip unwavering. "Do you want to come?"

Maura grinned brightly and 'butterflies' swarmed in her abdomen. "I'd love to."

* * *

**Well this is it, folks. I know none of you saw the end so near, but everything ends eventually. I had absolutely no plan for this story when I started it, I'm sure that was obvious, but I'm thrilled that you guys have stuck by and read this little bit of my imaginings.**

**My friend thinks I'm crazy for putting my otp through crap like this, but it's only because I know they can survive it.**

**Some of you will be disappointed that I didn't go through all the therapy which occurred in the lapsed six months. I'm sorry I couldn't do it for you, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless.**

**Hopefully you're not scandalized too much about what you'd find to be an abrupt ending. In all honesty, this fic was never supposed to be this long, but I got carried away as I'm wont to do.**

**It has been my pleasure to write for you all. Please don't hesitate to chat with me if there's something that bugs you or you just feel like talking. Or hey, I still do ficlet prompts if there's anything you really want to see.**

**It's been real, my friends. Thank you.**


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